Just Helping A Friend
by GingerRoseLee
Summary: Joss offers John a little relief from the heat of a New York City summer, but there's more than one way to make temperatures rise. A/U. Rating has gone up to a T, but that's all within taste *wink, wink*.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: A short one, for the start of summer. Careese, of course. No proofing done, as I just banged this out. The title of this I borrowed from Carter's lines in the scene from Donnelly's car when John is captured with Joss from the bridge ("Prisoner's Dilemma" stuff). Have fun!**

 **None of the characters and such belong to me. If they did, well, you know.**

It had been a hot one on the streets of New York that day. Temps soared well about the 90s, and even the pigeons were flapping their wings extra hard to keep cool. People up and down the eastern seaboard were feeling the heat, but none seemed to have it as bad the denizens of New York City that day. Brutal humidity was the name of the game.

John Reese was no different. Although he was used to the sweltering temps of Baghdad during combat, somehow the heat of the New York summer always did things to him, got to him somehow. He wasn't sure why; maybe it was all the noise and the ways in which people forgot their manners. Some people were just itching for fights, too, in this heat—and true to form, those that did often found them, with potentially devastating consequences. His wardrobe changed little; however, he was not averse to sometimes leaving the suit coat behind at the library or in Carter's Impala. Sure, he was Superman—but even the Man in the Steel Suit had his limits.

"It's your own fault, John," Joss admonished him as she dripped water from a cool washcloth over his head. The welcome refreshment ran down his salt-and-pepper hair onto his face and neck, and then onto his bare shoulders and chest, mingling with the soft hairs it found there. He closed his eyes at the chill of the water, the hot tension of the summer heat easing with each gentle cascade of it on his body.

"What's my own fault, Joss?" he murmured through her attentions.

"The way you get so overheated in this weather. You know what time of year it is. Leave those damn suits and those long sleeved cotton shirts at home. Don't you have any leisure wear? I know you have leisure wear. I've seen you in it once or twice."

"It's a mental thing, Joss. The clothes go with the job."

"You're darn right it's a mental thing. Just not the way you're thinking. Good thing for you I was home to help you out today. Next time you won't be so lucky. Here, tilt your head back."

"You know, this really isn't necessary, Carter."

"Do you wanna turn into a crispy critter out here? Tilt your head back."

As Joss put down the cloth and picked up the bucket she used with the cloth, John did as she instructed, moaning a little as he got the full benefit of what she was doing as he relaxed in one of her backyard lawn chairs.

"Mmmm...yeah...that's great. Aaaaah..." he purred while she took the water bucket and slowly poured refreshing liquid through his hair and on his forehead. His eyes were closed and she had no choice but to marvel at his baby soft long lashes that she realised could put a lot of women's to shame. She also noted the pink and cream skin, flush from the heat, the pores on his cheeks and nose, the stubble on his chin. His hair was bird-feather soft and his lips were slightly parted, as if in anticipation of some great secret being revealed.

This wasn't her Man in the Suit, crime fighter extraordinaire. This man before her was vulnerable and delicate in his way, a man completely under her hand, dependent upon her for relief. She smiled. Never would she have guessed that they'd get this close in order to share an experience like this. But there they were, in her backyard, on her day off, him getting cooled off after a rough afternoon of chasing a drug dealer hellbent on settling an old score. It hadn't been the plan—but when he'd stopped by to return some copy files and he looked as if he'd been steamrolled a few times over, she just knew she had to help him out a bit.

Besides, she'd availed herself of the hose earlier, clad in a dark blue bikini and sunglasses. Taylor was at a friend's house, so taking advantage of the empty house, she got the idea to turn the hose on and get chilled out the old fashioned way. No sense in not sharing with a friend. Yes, just helping a friend, all she was doing.

"I'm glad you like it, John. I'm just surprised you're letting me have my way on this."

"Mmm...why do you say that, Carter? It's wonderful, even if you really didn't need to go to all this trouble. I'm glad you did."

"I figured you'd say no."

"You don't know me well, then, do you? I never mind a cool down. Although I admit a chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream cone would have done just as well. But you know, this hands-on treatment has its merits too."

"Bet you say that to all the girls, John," she said with a grin.

He slowly opened his eyes at that poin, the green-gray in their depths like a window to the heavens. Before he spoke, he slowly shifted them towards her face and bared his teeth in a slight yet unmistakable smile.

"No, I don't, Detective. Just you."

Joss was flustered, but like the good cop she was, she didn't let on. "You could have fooled me."

"You never asked."

"Is it my job to ask?"

"You ask me about everything else, Carter."

"Yes, and you don't tell me anything when I ask. So what?"

"That kind of thing I would tell you about."

"Okay. Then tell me."

"Come closer," he said softly.

Now she was really flustered, and to cover her internal unsettlement, cleared her throat on top of another grin. "Oh, do I get the real state secrets this time, John? Boy oh boy I can't wait."

But she did as he asked. Upon moving closer to his face, his hand appeared out of nowhere to take the back of her head and move her even closer to his mouth. Upon contact, his lips were warm and wet, his tongue soft and probing, but not forcefully so. The kiss burned its own kind of heat across her lips. The bucket she held she forgot about, and upon dropping it, it splashed water everywhere, including his pants, breaking the kiss.

"Oh, shit!" she swore. "John, I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Joss. I'm not. Not sorry at all."

Their eyes locked on one another, as the weight of what had just happened sank in.

"Um...I'll get you some more towels. Be right back."

Before she turned to go, John grabbed her hand and gently rubbed the skin of her knuckles with his thumb, committing magic and mayhem simultaneously on her system.

"Joss, wait."

"What?"

"I don't have another number tonight. What do you say to cooling down a little more? A couple ice cream cones at the bakery?"

Joss thought about what eating ice cream with John might entail. That could get dicey. Really dicey, really fast. But she loved ice cream, and there was no better day to have it right then.

"Okay. Let your pants dry out here and we'll go."

"Sounds like a plan. Joss?"

"Yes?"

"Did anyone ever tell you what a cool chick you are?"

She grinned at him once more as she retreated into the house, her bikini hips and thighs sashaying for John's feasting eyes.

"John Reese, you ain't seen nothin' yet."

 **A/N: Again, a short one off the top of the head to whet the appetite for cool days in the summer heat, while we brace for the end of POI (and possibly the end of John Reese). Hope you all dig this one. Stay tuned for the usual madness. Thank you!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: This was supposed to be a one-shot, but it's a hot day where I am, and ice cream sounds like a plan right about now. And since John suggested it, why not?**

 **Enjoy—and stay cool, people. :-)**

"One chocolate and strawberry, one vanilla chocolate chip coming up," the server at Bowson's Deli and Treats said to Joss and John, respectively. They were fresh out of John's favorite cookie dough ice cream, so he opted for two scoops of vanilla chocolate chip, in a sugar cone. As they got their ice creams, Joss remembered that she was supposed to pick up some bologna for Taylor, as her teenaged son still liked his bologna and cheese sandwiches, just as he did when he was little.

"I better make sure I get this lunchmeat for him" she said, partially to herself. "He'll want to pack some sandwiches for basketball camp this week."

"Okay, Joss. I'll wait here. Let me hold your cone. Are...uh...you okay for money?"

Joss smirked at him and rolled her eyes. "You paid for the ice cream, but I can handle this."

Joss proceeded to order the meat, along with some more sliced cheese, pickles, a jar of spicy mustard, Kettle chips, and one of Bowson's famous apple pies. She didn't do that often, but for some reason, she felt like splurging on sweeties. The pie would be delicious heated up for a few seconds in the microwave.

"You look like you're buying enough to feed an army of four," John said, "You sure you're okay for money?"

"Yes, I'm sure. But thank you."

However, once Joss prepared to pay for the items she'd ordered, she dug out her wallet from her jeans pocket and realized that she didn't have any credit cards on her, which is what she would have used to get all the items. She then remembered that she'd switched wallets after her shift the other night, and the plastic was there, at home, and not with her.

"Oh, damn! My other wallet has my credit cards. Oh, I..."

"How much is it?" John piped in behind her.

The total, as it read on the register screen, was $21.67.

"I don't have but ten dollars in this wallet. I'm sorry, but I have to put back some things-"

Before she finished, the clerk was handing John back his change, and then began bagging the items that Joss had ordered. She turned to John, who looked down at her with hooded lids and his trademark smirk.

"You didn't have to do that, John."

"Well, think of it as me just helping a friend."

"Okay. Thank you. As soon as we get back to my house, I will pay you back."

"Sure. Got any lettuce and tomatoes to go with that bologna and cheese?"

##

The cop and the vigilante walked back to her house, their ice cream cones dripping spats of sugary stickiness on the ground. They managed to finish them before making complete messes of their hands and clothes, while John offered to carry the bag of supplies Joss had gotten for sandwiches. John insisted that his payback for footing the bill was to have her make him a sandwich before he headed off for his own place.

"I will pay you back the money, John. That's what's right."

"You let me be the judge of that, Joss. And I don't want the money. I want a sandwich."

Upon turning to her door way, she smiled sheepishly. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. You make me a sandwich, and we're even. I'm quiet a fan of bologna and cheese, too."

"What is it with you grown boys still eating like little boys?"

"The classics never go out of style, Joss. Not ever. I'll need to wash up when we get in," he said.

Joss unlocked and unpacked all the items, while John went down the hall to her guest bathroom to wash his hands. She did the same the kitchen sink, and then began the prep for the light meal of sandwiches and chips. Iced tea would wash it all down.

It was really lucky that he'd been there. She was saved the embarrassment of not having enough money at the deli. But now, he was staying over for what was, for all intents and purposes, supper. This was a first, in all the months she'd known him—and she wasn't quite sure what that meant, if anything.

Well, she wouldn't read anything into it. It was just a plate of sandwiches and iced tea. He'd sit down, eat, wipe his mouth, and leave. And they'd have another homicide to prevent—or investigate—the next day.

It was nice to take a break from all that, she had to admit. And even if that did happen with John, it was okay.

They would just eat. And not talk about that kiss he'd laid on her before going to the deli.

"Need any help, Joss?" he asked, coming into the kitchen, his now rather noticeable broad frame taking up the space of the entryway.

"Nope. This stuff will be ready in a few minutes. You go in the living room and make yourself comfortable. You like iced tea?"

"I do. Thank you. And I think I will go to the living room to await my payment. I'm hungry all of a sudden."

"Well, no one can live on ice cream cones alone. Go on. It'll come right up."

##

A plate of bologna and cheese sandwiches with cut crusts, spicy mustard, mayo, and lettuce and tomatoes sat next to a bowl of chips and a pitcher of iced tea on the coffee table in Joss' living room. John had turned the TV on to a belated Mariners' game and was now settled on the couch to watch it. It was the same time odd and somewhat comforting to have him in her house like this, to see his profile, his shoulders, on her sofa. When she gave the signal, he dug in, with thanks to the cook after a big gulping first bite, along with three more before the first sandwich was merely a memory.

"You weren't kidding about being hungry!" Joss marveled. "Please, save the sandwich maker at least one."

"Mmm, they're good, Joss. And I have my appetites."

"Do you, now? That's good, I guess."

"Mmm hmm. I do. Hearty ones."

"More than one?"

"Sure," he said, between sips of iced tea. "A man must be diversified, you know. Otherwise, he's a bore."

"Oh, I don't think anyone would ever accuse you of that, John Reese. I'm glad you're satisfying one of your appetites, at least."

John had picked up the second sandwich, only to pause and then put it down again. He picked up his glass of iced tea, the cubes clinking against the glass, and took another sip before putting that down too.

"Something wrong?" she asked, puzzled at his behavior.

"No. Nothing at all. I just think," he said, with a purse of his lips, "that I'd like to have some of that pie now, if I could."

"Oh! Yeah, sure. Coming up."

John got his apple pie, but this time, he didn't inhale it like he had the sandwich. He took careful, measured bites with his fork, as if he was studying the texture, the apples, the cinnamon. It was a strange way to eat pie—but John was a strange man, in his way, so she didn't put anything past him.

But then, he put the plate down on the table. And just as it had been in the deli, she wasn't ready for his quick reflexes and before she knew it, he had gently pulled her partially into his arms and captured her lips in yet another kiss. It was, as the one outside had been, slow and probing, his tongue softly demanding entry after a few strokes of his lips. Joss, to her surprise, found herself acquiescing to the pressure of his tongue, but he still broke the kiss to ask for more.

"Open your mouth, Joss," he breathed heavily. When he returned to her lips, she complied, and his tongue slid easily between the folds of her lips to find her own. She could taste the sticky sweet of the pie, the hint of apple mingled with the cinnamon. And it made her want more. Her hands raised up to his back and she pulled his head down to deepen the kiss. John groaned as his mouth explored hers, as his tongue continued to explore her mouth. His own hands found her hips, and pulled her closer to the heat that was his body, a heat that, unlike the burning sun outside, did not deter Joss. Her fingers dug into his hair, still slightly damp from her attentions with the bucket earlier.

John's hands began to roam, over her thighs, her hips, across her back, and finally, her hair, as he twined his fingers through the loose strands not being help by the clip she wore. But then, even the clip was fair game; he pulled it out, letting her mane cascade messily down her shoulders.

But soon, it was too much. Both of them were heading towards a doorway of no return. And one of them had to stop before they went through that door. Goodness knew what that would have been like in the aftermath, when they had to work with each other.

"John...mmm...John...hey...whoa...slow down...slow down..." Joss panted while his lips still stole kisses from her lips, her neck, and then the top of her chest where the t-shirt didn't cover her creamy mocha skin. "John!"

That last one reached him, and he stopped. Breaking contact, he moved away from her and ran a hand through his hair, the heavy sigh intermixed with the rise and fall of his chest and belly.

"Yeah...yeah, you're right...I'm sorry."

"It's okay, John."

He looked around, somewhat bewildered, his eyes darting from her to the TV, to the dining room table, to his shoes, and back to her before he ran his hand through his hair again. She had to admit to herself that it was amusing to see the bad ass vigilante flustered after that kiss. He spent so much time not being ruffled by bad guys and other threats that a kiss—a kiss from her—could get him all hot and bothered made her smile inside.

"I should, uh, I should go," he stammered.

"Yeah. I've got a double tomorrow, should get to bed soon..um..."

"Right, of course. Well, uh...thank you for the cool off and the...sandwiches...and the pie."

"Yes, the pie. You want to take some home? I can wrap this up, along with a couple sandwiches."

"Yeah, yeah sure. That'd be great."

"I could put them in an insulator bag with an ice pack. Against the heat, you know..."

"Yeah. Thanks."

"Still just helping a friend, John."

"A friend. Yes, of course. A...friend."

Their eyes met. Each one of them had so much to say to each other, but the words stayed locked behind their eyes. If the time ever came when those words came from their lips was anyone's guess.

"Okay, I'll get these things ready," Joss said.

"You do that, Joss," said John.

Upon his exit from her front door, John turned to her and bid her goodnight, while holding up the sandwiches and pie in his hand. She laughed in response.

"Hey next time you want ice cream, you let me know, Joss? I'm your man."

"Sure you are. Will do, John. Good night."

"Good night, Detective."

"Good night, John."

Her back fell against the door upon closing it. She touched her lips, slightly fuller, still tingling from John's kisses, and spotted her hair clip on the floor where he's dropped it.

 _Just a friend, Joss. Just...helping a friend. Just...a...friend. Damn, Joss. Damn!_

 **A/N: Yes, Joss. You have to work together. You can't start sleeping together. Of course you can't. Right? Ahhh, we could take bets, haha!**

 **Hope you enjoyed, and onward to the finale. Thanks!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: A third chapter. And I've increased the rating to T. Happiness for you readers. Enjoy.**

Joss continued to stand against the door for several seconds, still trying to process what had just happened. He did it again. Fuck, he did it _again_! He caught her off guard, and kissed her. She could still taste the pie from his mouth in her own, and her lips tingled with the memory of how demanding yet gentle he was, how soft and moist his lips were. She tried to process the tingling feeling of excitement she felt, head to toe, like an electric feather being teased across her entire body, but most especially in her most secret place, a place she'd hidden herself from over the past few years in the pursuit of career and making sure she had single motherhood down pat.

She looked over at the coffee table where the remnants of John's meal still lay upon the plates: the sandwich crumbs, the unfinished pie, the leftover tea and ice cubes still in the glass. She could still see him, feel where he had been in her home, on her couch, the imprint of his body still where he'd left it in the red of her throw pillow. The TV continued to play the last innings of the baseball game he'd turned it to. She sighed, finally letting go of the breath she'd just realized she'd been holding.

"Okay, Joss. Go on and clean up that mess. Not sure what's gotten into John, but I have to put that out of my mind and work with this man. Yes, that's what has to happen. So, go on and clear his mess up."

As she approached the coffee table, she picked up his sandwich plate. She could see traces of lettuce leaves and trails of tomato juice, sticky and wet, along with a tiny piece of the fruit on the edge. She shook her head, and went to gather the other things, but before she could pick up the glass, the doorbell rang.

 _Who the hell could that be now?_ She hoped it wasn't somebody bringing a file to her house from work. This was her day off, and most of the jokers at the 8th knew that when it was her time off, she didn't want any homicide work coming her way. Those moments at home were far too precious. Besides, the time would come soon enough when she had to face the piles of files and stacks of paperwork just waiting for her to take a crack at them.

Joss went to answer the door, still holding the sandwich plate in her hand. And before she got a good look at just who it was she opened up to, a pair of strong arms clad in a white dress shirt swooped in and picked her up, capturing her lips in yet another kiss. Through the fuzziness of her brain, she could detect the sound of the door slamming in the background before she was spun around, her back finding itself against that very same door. The plate ended up on the floor, near the fake fern at the door.

Strong, male hands roamed across her body, from her back to her ass, to her thighs and back, and she moaned when his tongue once again penetrated her lips to seek out and suckle her own.

Joss could feel her resolve to deny John's potency slip away. She slid up and down higher, then lower while he sought new avenues, new angles to her body and mouth. But soon, she had to break the power; she had to breathe, but more than that, she had to look at him.

And what she saw stunned her. John's eyes, gorgeous in work and purpose, were absolutely hypnotic in lust. She studied his face. There was no smirk of humor, nor teasing countenance. Instead, the darkened green-grey eyes begged and coaxed, cajoled and dared her to follow his lead, to let him have his way with her. When she saw those eyes, those eyes of sex and desire, it was like looking at another man, entirely.

But she knew exactly who he was. She knew what he wanted. Perhaps she'd always known. There was always something crackling between them. She chalked it up to the normal thing that could happen between two single people who worked together as closely as they did. But she never thought anything would come of it. And while John could put a man in a chokehold and break his neck before he even saw him get up from his seat, she would have never in a million years considered that he'd haul off and kiss her as he had. And she certainly wouldn't have seen him come back to finish what he'd started.

But there he was, ravishing her mouth, pawing her breasts and ass, driving her crazy. She wouldn't question it. Questioning it would ruin everything. And dammit, it felt too good.

"Tell me, Joss," he murmured against her neck, and letting her feet drop back down to the floor. He didn't let her go, however, which was a good thing, since she didn't know if she could trust her legs to hold her up.

"T-tell you what?"

"Tell me what you like. You see, I can just look at you, hear your voice...and I go a little crazy...that's all it takes. But you, I don't know what you like. That's a mystery to me. And that shouldn't be. I want to be the cause, Joss. I want to be your pleasure. Tell me."

"Umm, well...you're doing...a pretty good job...of figuring that out on your own, John...oh wow...oh...I mean...I ain't picky about these...things...ohhhhhmmm..." Her voice trailed off in a thick cloud of desire and arousal that John's tongue and gentle nipping on her neck and lobe brought heavy and strong to the fore. The combination was doing things to her that she hadn't experienced in such a way as this since her first heady days of being her ex-husband's serious girlfriend. Too much work, too many cases, too many early mornings washing her son's clothes. Not nearly enough of this.

He had gently tilted her head to the side for better access, her inky black hair fingered out of the way. His hands gently coursed their way up and down her body, finding her back first, then, in taking the liberty as he would, her ass again, the fulsome backside more than enough for him to caress. She made no move to stop him. In fact, her body's wanton response was to press against his own arousal, the bulge in his pants alive and demanding. A slight groan escaped his lips mid-kiss, and his salt and pepper head slowed down as his eyes opened and found hers.

The look she saw was like nothing she'd ever really experienced with him. While he had had a habit of studying her face intensely during their work together, the fire in his eyes was never there as it was in that moment. She could see that a number of emotions were going on in those eyes then: desperation, need, determination. As she continued to weave slightly back and forth against him, his quickened breaths joined his eyes in telling her just what it was she was doing to him—and how little his control would keep in check the longer they stayed there like that.

"John..."

"Mmm hmm?" he murmured thickly.

"Do you think you'll be able to leave again without this happening between us?"

He shook his head with a grin, while his nostrils flared with the exertion breathing was suddenly causing him.

"No. No, dammit, I won't. So what, then, hmm? What are we gonna do about that, Detective?"

"Do you want to lead upstairs or should I?" she asked, wide-eyed, and almost as breathless as he was, the rise and fall of her breasts a wickedly tantalizing sight.

John leaned back, closed his eyes, and swallowed in a gulp of air before bending slightly to pick her up again like a little girl, with her legs and thighs straddling his back. He returned to her mouth like a frantic beast, his lips and tongue sliding here and there, over and over, his hands feverishly running up and down her body before getting tangled up in her hair. Her own hands pulled at his shirt buttons, which surprisingly, she managed to mostly get off him before he wiggled out of it completely. From there, she found the skin of his broad back, the muscles working in concert with his unfettered desire.

"I think I know the way, Detective."

That was the last time he spoke to her until they made it up to her bed.

##

With shirts, pants, jeans, panties, boxers, and other clothing strewn across the floor from the hallway, and their love spent, the cop and the vigilante made room for one another, their gasping breaths and contented moans mingled together as the music of lovers will. John ran a hair through his hair and sighed heavily, both of them covered in a sheen of sweat despite the cool and comfort of Joss' bedroom.

"Wow...God...oh, wow. You are incredible, Detective. Just incredible," John panted.

"Yeah, mmm hmm," Joss joined in. "That was great, John...so great. Jesus..."

When she'd finally caught her breath, while they both silently recovered, she attempted small talk. No better subject than what he had been engaged with before things got all hot and heavy, she reasoned to herself.

"Hey, what did you do with your sandwiches, John?"

"I think they're still in the car. Won't be much good for eating now, in these temps."

"No," Joss said, her body entwined with his, under a light sheet, the soft artic air of the AC cooling the heat of their bodies now that the raging storm had passed.

"You want more? I can make more for you to take with you...or something else. Breakfast, maybe?"

John chuckled while stroking her hair, then kissed her lightly on the forehead. She lie halfway on top of his chest, halfway at his side. She in turn, ran her hand over the expanse of his chest, belly, and arm before linking her fingers with his. Her touch caused him to close his eyes and groan, the re-ignition of his arousal not far off.

"The day isn't over yet, Joss. Long time until breakfast. If I get a call from Finch, I'll have to go. Besides, won't Taylor be home soon?"

"Oh. Right. Finch. Of course, duty might call."

"And Taylor shouldn't see me here."

Of course. Normally, she would agree with him. But for some reason, at that moment, she didn't want to. Her sensibilities were shot. Her nerves were hypersensitive to his presence, her private space ravished yet content with his loving. She wasn't thinking of propriety. Indeed not.

"That's all right, John. He knows you. And I'm a grown woman."

"But you don't have a string of men coming in and out of this bedroom, do you? So that your boy can see them?"

Joss wrinkled her brow and looked up at him. "You listen in on all my phone calls, John. You know I don't."

Yes, he knew. Of course, he did. He just wanted her to tell him so, to confirm that she had picked him out of all the other men he also knew were affected by her, were attracted to her. Cal Beecher, especially. She had kept her fellow detective at arm's length, even though they had gone out on a few dates. But him, she never did that with. He had had the access. He was she had given a cool down in her backyard.

He was the man she had let into her bed, into her body, her desires. He wouldn't take such a rarefied privilege such as that for granted.

"I wouldn't have thought it mattered, who and what I do in my bedroom. Not to you, anyway." she said quietly.

John wasn't looking back at her. Instead, he lie flat on his back, facing the ceiling, his eyes closed, while his fingers continued to stroke her hair. At first, she thought he hadn't heard her, when he didn't respond immediately. But she was mistaken.

"After what just happened here between you and me, it does now. It damn well does."

She shuddered at his words. There was a certain thrill in hearing him say something like that. She wasn't sure why, with hardly any time to really process what happened that afternoon, and John wasn't giving her time to process it. At his pronouncement, he slowly turned over and topped her body again, the pair of them sinking down into the pillows, a soft moan escaping Joss' lips just as he captured them in yet another kiss. Another kiss full of promise, desire, and something she hadn't quite bargained for—possession. Yes, that was new for her. So far, it was more wonderful than she ever thought possible.

They would have to have that talk about their friendship. Certainly, they would. But not then. No, not then.

And Taylor wouldn't be home from basketball camp for another few hours yet.

 **A/N: So, we leave the two friends as they amplify that friendship. I must admit I sort of stole the idea of John's comeback from the film 'Something New.' Always liked that scene between Brian and Kenya (if you've seen it, you know the one). An inspired choice.**

 **As always, I hope this little summer ditty has been fun and that your season has been going well. Stay tuned!**


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